October Drudion

October 2003ce

Guess yooz wondering why I’m one late Webster this month. Well, the truth is on the day I was supposed to be serving up this Address Drudion, I was being pitched into a Breton gulley with airbags flying and busting out all kinds of chemicals into my songular lungs! Travelling the 120-miles of the high roads between Vannes and Morlaix, the fog was so thick and the 12-hour downpour had made the roads so treacherous that I was on my guard up there. But in that tightknit mesh of northern lanes, I STILL managed to pitch my snarling Chevrolet front end into el boggo, like Thomas the Tank Engine bobbing for apples. Worse still, said front end was so Roland Orzaballed that you couldn’t prise the bonnet open and I had to chug at 45 mph back to Vannes (4 hours) just to pick up my suitcase of stuff.

Still, enough of my worries. Back here the plans for ROME WASN’T BURNED IN A DAY seem to be going smoothly enough. I see Holy McGrail has got on the Sabbath Competition case in his usually loose cannon’d manner! Dammit, I love it. And thanks to the Seth Man for some of those righteously obscure questions, too. I’ve also spent a lot of time putting together appropriate music for the PA to blast you with, of course including unreleased Donor stuff as well as old bands like Snatch, Metal Urbain, Blue Cheer, At The Drive-in, Stairway to Heavens, Kiss, Armand Scaubroeuk… (Et-fucking-setterah!)
Now, I’m listening to PUSSY CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST by that inimitable Japanese girl group Anadorei and thinking that crossing Crass melodies with Mary Chain feedback whilst dressing in French maids outfits is about as beyond PC as you can take it. No wonder their line-up keeps changing. Especially as their lyrics are all personal putdowns of former friends and band associates. Best lyric has to be on the 40-second mantra ‘Luckyhole Off’, whose entire lyric is just: "Luckyhole is an asshole, Luckyhole is a fucking asshole." Yeah? Me three. And if I ever see that Luckyhole… uh, Look out!
The other raging artefact that has me currently crazy is the session Comets on Fire did for New York’s WFMU. What a fucking great radio station and what an almighty band. And Ethan Miller’s voice is that righteous composite of John Fogerty and Roger Kynard Erikson that takes you to DMT space without so much as a lyric being sung – just a sound and yooz… floatin’!!!

The past month has been more than a little crazy getting the first part of THE MEGALITHIC EUROPEAN ready for the publishers’ first deadline. The hardest part was finding photographs of Portuguese sites I last visited in ’92. Shee-it! Luckily I’m so obsessed with Europe that I had returned to virtually every place, but as one of those sad Iberian sites is now under 200 feet of water (sic sic sic), I just had to search out that shot amongst all of the past decade’s dog jackets, discarded doubleneck wrappers, etc, etc…
However, it all went off on time and the book is gonna be a scorching thang of truth’n’beauty. And for all of you disappointed at the temporary back-burn of LET ME SPEAK TO THE DRIVE, console yourselves at the sumptuousness of this interim publication, which will actually end up 48-pages longer than THE MODERN ANTIQUARIAN itself.

By the way, I’ve decided to put a bet on that the Athens Olympics doesn’t happen. You heard me right. I’m actually gonna put money on that it doesn’t happen. All the Greeks I’ve discussed this matter with just shrugged their shoulders and went, eh, you’re probably right. I mean Athens at the height of summer with so many people and that transport system. Gimme a break, it ain’t gonna happen! At the very least people is gonna fry and some are gonna die.

Right, I’m off and now. My whiplashed neck is playing me up and I’m in no mood to rant negatively about anything. Hell, a be-apron’d Timberlake could come and serve me double fries and a burger right now and I probably… dammit, I’d still kick his Mickey Mouse Club ass into the middle of next week.